Her smile grows at the mention of the Queen in the North. She hadn't spent a lot of time with Sansa, but she'd spent enough to say that she liked the woman. "I am glad to have her approval." It's less because she can't screw up this arrangement or else she'll face her guardian's wrath, but more of she's found some hope of a future in Westeros and would rather remain here than get shipped back to Rome.

Then she adds, in a tone that's unmistakably flirty, "And I hope I have yours as well, Your Grace?" This time she purposely uses his title instead of his name, knowing that he'll bother to correct it.

She slips off the window entirely, her motions graceful and fluid despite the hints of her rebellious streak. She's so much shorter than him but she holds herself well regardless, with the confidence of a queen, of a fighter. "Aye, experience truly is the best teacher." She gives him a playful bat of her lashes, which somehow she manages to appear natural; this area, it seems, she has plenty of experience in.